Feathered Dragon mt-3

by Douglas Niles

  For a full day, he lay still, certain at any moment that he was about to die. And, in fact, he began to wish for death as

  the only conceivable release from the death by starvation that now seemed his inescapable destiny

  Suddenly he heard a sound and sat instantly upright. Perhaps, he decided, he didn’t really want to die-not yet, in any event.

  But what was that? He heard another noise and pictured the approach of some horrid beast, certainly about to tear him limb from limb.

  Then he sagged back, almost crying out with relief. It wasn’t a horrid beast, for he heard a voice, an unmistakably human voice. He couldn’t recognize words, or even a language, but the deep and resonant tones could be nothing other that a man engaging in deep and serious conversation.

  “Here! Here! Help me,” he cried, scrambling to his feet. “I’m over here!”

  He would not have been disappointed to see Cordell himself coming toward him; at least the captain-general might reasonably be expected to provide him with a decent meal before hanging him!

  “Please, come here!” he shouted again, climbing to his feet and pushing through the brush toward the source of the sound.

  Then he stopped, dull horror creeping over his senses and freezing him in his place. He came to the source of the voice, but it was not a man in earnest conversation. Instead, he looked into a bestial face, with a mouth full of long, curving fangs. It was a mouth that, even as Kardann watched, slowly spread into a wide, horrifying grin.

  “Hello,” said the great cat, in its soft, well-modulated tones. “I am the Lord of the Jaguars, and you are mine.”

  From the chronicles of Colon:

  In the certain approach of the Plumed Grandfather. We leave Ulatos knowing that, shortly behind us, the horde of the Viperhand will reach the city of the Payit. A city of long-lasting peace, it will see its second war within the year. The faithful warriors who have accompanied us here will try to buy us the time to work a miracle.

  But if anyone can do so, I suspect it will be this black-haired woman who bears the child of two peoples. She is truly the Chosen One of Qotal, and her goodness is manifest. She may yet open the gate to the ‘s passage.

  The menace looms behind us in the monsters of Zaltec. The unknown lurks ahead, an encloaking darkness that beckons and yet dissuades. 1 pray that we, that Erixitl, has the power to shed that darkness.

  20

  THE SECOND BATTLE OF ULATOS

  The beasts of the Viperhand, guided by the battle-hungry Hoxitl, waited for nightfall to launch their attack, allowing time for the entire monstrous army to gather at the edge of the savannah. The great regiments pushed forward along the coastal trail, and the column gradually expanded into a vast front within the protective jungle.

  Cordell, conversely, had been forced to prepare for an assault as soon as the horde reached the fringe of the savannah surrounding Ulatos at noon. His men stood under the blazing Maztican sun throughout the day, ready for battle. But as the hours of afternoon passed into twilight, the battle did not come.

  At least, the captain-general realized, they were spared the damage that could have been inflicted by the monstrous image of Zaltec. The stone colossus stood there throughout the waning afternoon, staring above and beyond the savannah and the armies that gathered around its feet. It was as if the humans were too pathetic, too unworthy even of his notice for Zaltec to take the trouble of wiping them out.

  Finally, before dusk, the giant stepped onto the savannah, scattering the desert dwarves of Luskag’s tribe, for those unfortunate warriors stood in the god’s direct path. Fortunately the nimble dwarves all raced out of the way of the monstrous footsteps, and Zaltec continued marching steadily to the east.

  Cordell, along with the rest of the army, watched him go and felt an unmistakable sense of relief. Still, some of them, including the captain-general, knew that the battle to be fought at Twin Visages was at least as important to their future as the one about to occur here.

  The latter, however, was Cordell’s only concern now His troops were in position, though they seemed a pathetically frail line to stem the tide that they knew lurked in the nearby jungle. Desert dwarves, carrying their sharpened weapons of plumastone; tough, veteran spearmen from Tulom-Itzi; halflings armed with shortbows, tipped with the paralytic poison, kurari; an assortment of mercenaries with crossbow, harquebus, sword and buckler, a hundred cavalry; it seemed an oddly diverse core to an army

  lb these numerous formations, the city of Ulatos and the lands of the Payit had added seven thousand additional warriors, a total that had pleased and surprised the captain-general. A year ago, the bulk of the Payit army had accompanied Cordell on his disastrous march to Nexal. Though not so accomplished in war as other nations of the True World, the Payits were brave and loyal fighters. Thus, when the one who had conquered them had ordered them to join his ranks, they had done so willingly and without question.

  The Payits had made the march with the Golden Legion, participating in Cordell’s successful battle to subdue the Kultakans. That conquered state had then become the captain-general’s ally as well, and a source of great reinforcements in his march on the great city of Nexal. The Pay-its, Kultakans, and legionnaires had all entered the city and taken up residence in its central plaza.

  Unlike the Kultakans, however, the Payits hadn’t been fortunate enough to fight their way free of the dying city on the Night of Wailing. They had perished there almost to a man. Now the city of Ulatos and the surrounding countryside had precious few warriors with which to defend themselves.

  The defenders’ position stood anchored on the sea, in the strong block of Helmsport. Here one of Don Vaez’s former officers, newly sworn to the service of Cordell, commanded legionnaires-a hundred crossbow and a hundred sword. The fort would provide a refuge for much of the force if the line broke. Here also the commander had posted many of the young magic-users who had come with Don Vaez’s force, the rest of the spell-casters being scattered along the length of the line.

  Yet Cordell knew that simply holing up in the fortress and allowing the monsters to rampage freely outside the walls was a defeatist strategy; instead, he formed a long line of resistance stretched across the savannah, with the fort as only the far right end of that line.

  The defenders’ position stretched inland from the fortress, nearly a mile to the small village of Nayap. Here Cordell had posted a large block of swordsmen and archers, for the little cluster of houses formed a disruptive obstacle to any attack from the jungle.

  Beyond the village, the line curved back to the left for another half a mile until it reached another small village, Actas. Neither of these settlements numbered more than four dozen buildings, and most of these were structures of thatch or adobe. Each contained a small pyramid, however. Though these ceremonial centers were barely twenty-five feet high, Cordell used them as platforms to mount his archers, while men with swords, halberds, and pikes gathered around their bases to protect them in melee.

  The entire position, unfortunately, stretched only a third of the way to the city of Ulatos. Interspersed companies of legionnaire crossbowmen and harquebusiers, plus the archers of the Little Men and the Itza, stood along the front. Alternating with them were companies of legionnaire swordsmen and axe-wielding desert dwarves, as well as the companies of Payit spearmen.

  Behind the line, Daggrande commanded the reserves, a company of legionnaire veterans armed with axes or shortswords. Beside him, Grimes rode with a hundred-odd horsemen. The chief task of the cavalry would be to prevent the monsters from sweeping around the left flank of the defense.

  Throughout the hot afternoon, the defenders had stood ready while the attackers gathered their forces. After the colossal figure of Zaltec marched on to Twin Visages, they expected the attack momentarily. But slowly afternoon faded to dusk, then twilight.

  Finally, after full darkness settled across the fields, the men sensed movement in the night. A soft rustling swept through the grass, and t
hen the tread of many heavy feet thudded through the earth.

  Suddenly, with shocking abruptness and crushing volume, a great roar arose from the masses of ores and ogres. The beasts rushed from the fringe of the jungle, shaking the ground with the pounding cadence of their charge. Wooden whistles and conch-shell horns added to the din. The ranks hurled themselves into the open, ten great regiments sweeping toward the line on the savannah, rushing through the night toward their rendezvous with death.

  Hoxitl remained in the jungle, staring from his treelike height with eyes that took no notice of the darkness. He saw the line of his enemies and the sweeping mass of his own charging troops.

  The defenders stared in awe, trembling at the din and trying to steel themselves for the coming clash. It was good, for the sake of their confidence, in any event, that they didn’t know the first awe-inspiring rush came from but a third of Hoxitl’s entire force.

  Moments after the attack commenced, light spells suddenly dispelled the night as the smattering of young mages among Don Vaez’s expedition cast their weak magic, serving a vital function.

  Instantly the archers of Tulom-Itzi launched the first volley of their missiles. The sharks-tooth heads penetrated bodies of ores and ogres and trolls. Several of the lumbering creatures fell, and again and again volleys of deadly arrows flew.

  Next came the heavy dunk of crossbow fire, and a volley of heavy quarrels darted like steel scythes into the face of the foremost regiment. Even huge ogres grunted or doubled over in pain, while the smaller ores often fell dead. slain by a single bolt.

  Then a sharp crash, like explosive thunder never heard in Maztican battle before, erupted from the harquebusiers. A cloud of gray smoke instantly blossomed among them, but not before lethal balls of lead shot thudded into the enemy.

  The crude muskets dropped many an ore, but the wielders had to lower their weapons after the first volley. The charge came on too fast for them to reload.

  Finally the Little People launched their darts. The tiny arrows were little more than pinpricks to the hulking beasts, but they could not so easily ignore the kurari venom smeared on the tips of the little arrows.

  A spearhead of trolls led the attack, forty of the gangly beasts, claws outstretched, their ghastly faces split by grimaces of battle hatred. On each, the pulsing crimson brand of the Viperhand stood out from the scaly green skin on the creature’s chest,

  The bolts and arrows and lead balls that struck the trolls occasionally knocked the creatures down, but invariably the monsters crawled back to their feet, plucked the missiles from their bodies, and charged forward in the wake of their companions’ attack.

  The first trolls hit a company of mercenary swordsmen. Heavy green fists bashed shields out of the way, while cruel talons and fangs sought human flesh. The men stood for a brief moment, chopping and hacking, only to see the wounds they inflicted in the trolls’ skin heal almost as soon as the dripping blades came free.

  The fight raged with chaotic savagery as small bands of men fought for their lives against the much larger trolls. Shouts of warning and cries of rage split the night, as well as the shrieks and groans of the wounded. Weapons clashed against shields with ringing force, while the howls and bellows of the trolls rose above all, adding a monstrous and inhuman cast to an already nightmarish scene.

  Swordsmen fell dead, ripped to pieces by the fangs and talons of the trolls, while some of the monsters limped and crawled back from the fight to allow deep wounds to regenerate. But the latter returned, while the former were lost forever, and this began to turn the tide of the melee.

  Finally the company of swordsmen collapsed, just as the ten thousand ores, heavy with the momentum of their charge, crashed into the rest of the line.

  Howling and shrieking madly, each tusk-faced creature

  inflamed by the burning of his own crimson brand, the ores struck with brute force. Their macas and clubs hammered into the shields of the defenders as rear ranks instantly stepped forward to fill the multitude of gaps formed by their fallen comrades.

  “There!” bellowed Daggrande. He saw the trolls burst through the line. The mass of green split into two groups, wheeling to the right and left, respectively.

  The first group faced the flank of Tabub’s diminutive archers. The Little Men turned and showered the trolls with arrows as Luskag and the desert dwarves extended their line to protect the front of the halflings against the charging ores. The monsters cursed and howled in pain as the tiny arrows pricked them. Several of them, those that had been hit many times, suddenly stiffened with reflexive gasps and then collapsed to the ground, motionless and rigid.

  The reserve company rushed forward, surging into contact with the second group of trolls. Daggrande chopped his axe into the back of one of the creatures, driving it to its knees. Savagely the dwarf attacked the troll, his blade delivering a hailstorm of blows. He left the troll a mangled mass on the grass, while the last rank of the reserve company stopped to shower the corpse with oil and touch a flame to it. In moments, a pyre of stinking black smoke marked the demise of the troll.

  Around Daggrande, other veteran soldiers attacked with halberds or long, two-handed swords. The trolls fought back savagely, and many a brave warrior fell before their talons or drooling, wicked fangs. But the persistence of the dwarf’s company, coupled with their skillful use of fire, finally began to drive the trolls back.

  Daggrande knew the breach had been stemmed-for now.

  Behind the dwarf, Grimes saw one of the monstrous regiments swing wide of the defenders’ line, starting a great wheel around the entire flank.

  “Charge!” Grimes cried, gesturing with his sword. The horsemen, in five companies of twenty, surged into a broad line. Lances lowered, they plunged into the regiment of ores, scattering the creatures beneath their hooves, breaking them into panicked remnants.

  The ogres stood firm, clubs upraised, before the rush. But the deadly lances found these, and many a hulking monster shrieked in mountainous pain before falling to the earth before a charging rider. Desperately the dying monsters struggled to hold their torn bodies together as the last remnant of their life fluid seeped over the ground.

  The horses wheeled and rode back, wracking the regiment again, trampling the survivors beneath the crushing hooves. The surviving ores broke and fled toward the shelter of the jungle. Grimes, minus a few of his riders, pulled the horsemen back behind the line.

  Another regiment pressed forward, pushing around to the roar of the village of Nayap. Payit spearmen resisted. them courageously, even felling several ogres with their long, obsidian-tipped weapons. But then a dozen trolls ripped into the center of the warriors’ line, and in moments, the whole company fled in disorder.

  Howling in triumph, the monstrous formation rushed to fill the gap and encircle the village. But then a small form darted across the sky, soaring over the onrushing beasts.

  Pryat Devane rode his flying carpet at high speed, bringing the little platform to a sudden stop when he reached a position a hundred yards in front of the charging regiment.

  “By the power of Helm, I call a plague upon you!” he shouted, raising his metal gauntlet and pointing to the first monstrous rank.

  In the next moment, the buzzing, hissing, and clicking of millions of insects rose across the plain, competing with the din of battle in its intensity. Immediately the leading ogres howled in pain and surprise, slapping at their skin and twisting grotesquely in an effort to escape.

  Wasps, bees, hornets, flies-all manner of stinging insects flew among the monsters, and instantly the momentum of the attack vanished. All the beasts could think about was escape, and the entire regiment dissipated as the creatures raced in every direction to escape the insect plague. Some of

  them tumbled through the ranks of a neighboring regiment, one that pressed against Nayap itself, and for a little while the weight of that savage attack eased.

  For long, bloody minutes, the battle stood in terrible balance. Humans, ores
, dwarves, ogres, halflings, horses, and trolls, all bled into the dark earth, beneath the encloaking clouds that blacked out even the slightest glimpse of stars or moon.

  Hundreds of lives expired. Companies of ores or humans, decimated by battle, turned to flee. Others on each side expanded their fronts to cover gaps thus exposed. An exhausting, costly equilibrium held along the front.

  Then another horrifying sequence of whistles and bellows erupted from the forest. The din of the battle faded to insignificance against the cacophony of fresh strength symbolized by that throaty, hungry roar.

  More hulking shapes emerged from the forest, their shadows spreading across the savannah. Another powerful wave of destruction, they pressed toward the cringing shore as Hoxitl throw another ten regiments into the fight.

  Erixitl stumbled forward, helped by Colon and Halloran. They made their way slowly down the shore toward Twin Visages on foot, since the ground in places was too rough for safe travel by horseback. Jhatli led Lotil by the hand.

  They followed the coast, since all the paths through the jungle from Ulatos to Twin Visages were obscure and difficult to follow. The shoreline route took longer but was far more certain.

  “It’s not much farther,” Erix said finally, after hours of marching. The sun neared the western horizon, and now they strived to reach their goal by nightfall.

  Halloran remembered the place called Twin Visages, the place where he and Erixitl had met. It had seemed even then to be a place of dire portent and deep, abiding power. Now it fell like the focus of his world, the place toward which all his roads had been leading.

  “When we get there, do we climb the pyramid?” he asked. That structure, much smaller than the one in Tewahca seemed hardly large enough to support the massive dragon they had glimpsed, so briefly, in the City of the Gods.